


Cross Words

by memorizingthedigitsofpi



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Laundromat AU, Meet-Cute, Podfic Available
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-21 19:26:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7400845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memorizingthedigitsofpi/pseuds/memorizingthedigitsofpi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doing laundry at the laundromat is one of the most boring things to do on a sunny Sunday afternoon. Especially when your phone is dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cross Words

**Author's Note:**

  * For [grapehyasynth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/grapehyasynth/gifts).



> Happy Birthday, Grapehyasynth!

Fitz looked up _again_ and glared at the young woman who wouldn't stop pacing. He was trying to do the New York Times crossword, and she was making it incredibly difficult to concentrate. Her shoes were alternately scuffing and clacking on the linoleum floor, and she was humming a random melody so out-of-tune that he couldn't identify what it was. It was maddening.

Jemma paced back and forth, looking at the clock every few steps and waiting impatient for her laundry to finish drying. Her phone had died during the spin cycle and she'd made quick work of the old, half-torn magazines that had been lying on one of the folding tables. There was nothing to do and no one to talk to except the glowering young man sitting by the window who had taken the only current newspaper in the entire place. Damn him.

"Will you _please_ just sit somewhere!" Fitz finally burst out, patience worn thinner than it usually was. There was no way he was going to beat his best time now, and he'd already made a mistake because of her infernal racket.

" _Excuse_ me?" Jemma asked, turning to him and crossing her arms. Her brows drew together and her jaw hardened in response to his rudeness. Who did he think he was, ordering her about?

"I'm _trying_ to _concentrate_ ," he grumbled, rustling his paper in front of his face to block her from his view.

"Oh _really_?" Jemma replied, raising one brow and lifting her chin imperiously. "Is reading the paper that much of a _challenge_ for you?" She flushed at her own rudeness, but really, it was nothing less than he deserved.

She marched over to him with a purposeful stride and sat down right next to him. " _Better_?" she asked, acerbically.

" _Much_ ," he spat back, turning to glare into her face. He blinked in surprise at how close it was and couldn't help noticing how her brown eyes were rimmed with gold.

Clearing his throat, he rustled the paper again and folded it back on his knee.

"You're doing the crossword?" Jemma asked, not at all sure why she was still making conversation with the oaf except that she knew it would annoy him.

"No, I'm doing basic auto repair," Fitz retorted sarcastically. "What does it _look_ like I'm doing?"

Jemma bridled again, face scrunching up into an angry pout. She looked down at the paper in front of him and jabbed a finger at the page. "It _looks_ like you're misspelling 'pharaoh'," she pointed out with relish.

"What?" Fitz asked, looking down at his crossword in consternation. "Damnit! You were distracting me!" he said, scribbling out his mistake and fixing it.

"Obviously, you shouldn't be doing it in pen," Jemma pointed out reasonably.

"I always do it in pen," Fitz snapped. "And it's never been a problem before."

"Uh huh," Jemma said, rolling her eyes in disbelief. What a thing to get your knickers in a twist over.

"It hasn't!" he insisted. Why he even cared what she thought, he didn't know.

"There's no shame in it," Jemma said patronizingly. She just couldn't resist making him angrier. His accent got thicker as his rage mounted, and it was almost cute.

Almost.

"I'm not ashamed!" Fitz practically shouted, throwing the paper on the floor in frustration.

Jemma smiled happily and picked it up. " _Thank_ you," she said sweetly. Then she moved to the other side of the room. Getting a pen out of her purse, she continued to work on the puzzle.

Fitz stared, gobsmacked. If that wasn't the _rudest_ -!

His machine buzzed the fact that it was finished and he grumbled as he stomped over to pull out his clothes. Still massively annoyed, he shoved them all back into his laundry bag without folding them and made his way over to the door.

"That was _my_ paper, just so you know," he pointed out as he yanked the door open.

"And I appreciate the donation," Jemma replied sweetly. "Your shirts are going to be horribly wrinkled by the time you get home," she pointed out. When he glared in response, she shrugged and went back to the crossword. "Just trying to be helpful."

Fitz muttered something under his breath that probably shouldn't be repeated and let the door slam behind him on his way out.

* * *

A week later, they were both back doing their laundry at the same time. Jemma arrived first this time, and she glared haughtily at Fitz when he entered.

Fitz, for his part, rolled his eyes and glared back. She'd been right about his shirts, but he wasn't about to tell _her_ that.

Setting his laundry to wash as far away from hers as he could, Fitz sat down by the windows again and started in on the crossword. At least this week, she was sitting there quietly instead of making a ruckus all over the place.

Jemma turned back to the book she was reading on her phone. It was a mystery by an author that her friend had recommended, but she was finding it rather plodding and very dull. She bit her lip and looked across at the man she'd argued with the week before. He might be rude, but at least he wasn't boring.

Fitz looked up in surprise when the woman walked over to him again. He was getting himself set for a fight when she sat down and held out her hand to shake.

"Jemma Simmons," she said, introducing herself a bit formally. "We got off on a bit of the wrong foot last week," she said with a half smile.

"Fitz," he replied, frowning a bit. He wasn't sure what her angle was. "And that's putting it mildly."

"In my defense," Jemma said, curling her hair behind her ear. "My phone was dead and I was horrendously bored." She raised her eyebrows hopefully to see if that might be enough to fix things.

Fitz had to smile a bit at that. He'd been caught out with a dead phone before and hated the experience so much, he now carried at charging pack with him wherever he went. "In mine," he joked, "I'm just an angry Scot."

Jemma smiled broadly and decided not to point out his redundancy. "Apologies and forgiveness all around?" she offered.

"Done and done," Fitz agreed with a nod. He shook her hand again for good measure. It was a nice hand, soft and slender and fitting perfectly in his.

Shifting imperceptibly closer, Jemma looked at the paper in front of him. "Doing the crossword again?" she asked, as if just passing the time of day.

"Oh, is _that_ it?" Fitz asked, suddenly understanding why the overture. "You're bored again and want to steal my paper?"

Jemma blushed and grinned. "I need to work on my subtlety?"

"Quite a bit, I'd say."

"I'll see what I can manage for next week," she winked.

Fitz grinned back and handed his paper over. "I look forward to it," he winked back.


End file.
